


ERB's Travelling Bakery

by Coppercurls



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Bitty's Valentines, Fluff, I really don't know what I wrote, Like fluffy fluff, M/M, cute cat inspired meet cute, food truck AU?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 05:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13756863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coppercurls/pseuds/Coppercurls
Summary: After a scant semester at U of G, Eric decides to ditch the life of academia and take his baking abilities on the road. Kent Parson is dragged into ERB's Bakery hype by his over enthusiastic teammates. Instagram shenanigans (read: flirting) ensues.





	ERB's Travelling Bakery

Eric Bittle did not know what he was doing. To be fair, he hadn’t known what he was doing for a good long while. Not since he had dropped out of the University of Georgia after one semester and spent the last cent in his savings to buy a food truck and fix it up enough to run a mobile bakery out of. He thought that may have been the best decision of his life, so maybe not knowing what he was doing was a good thing.

That life philosophy, however, likely shouldn’t extend to taking in cats off the street while he was living in a food truck. Well, not cats plural. Just one cat. In particular. A lovely, though thin, black cat that had been following him around Cincinnati, Ohio for the better part of the afternoon.

“Oh, Eric, what’re you gettin’ yourself into,” Eric muttered, thumbing through his wallet to see how much leftover tip money he had from that week’s work. 

Glancing back at the cat and meeting its large green eyes, Eric said, “Now you stay right there, I’ll be out again in just a minute.”

Three hours and a bag of cat treats later, Eric held a now clean cat up to his eyes. “My oh my, you do clean up nice. I guess we’ll have to stop for some cat food and litter before blowing town.” He sighed. “And we should start saving up for a visit to the vet.”

The cat mewed back at him, blinking her eyes sluggishly. Eric opened the door the to the cab of the truck and set her down, throwing his backpack behind the seat back. When he looked back to her, she had curled up among his spare sweaters. Under the lights of the truck stop he was at, her fur shone black, with wisps of purple.

Eric smiled. “I’m going to call you Plum.”

Plum blinked and mewed at him again, and Eric pulled out of the stop to seek out the nearest grocery store that would carry the feline fundamentals.

~~~

It was October Kent Parson heard the first whispers. And by whispers, he means locker room shouts.

“Holy fuck!” A voice shouted from across the locker room, and it managed to quiet the majority of people. When Kent looked over, it was Candy who was waving his phone and bouncing where he sat half dressed in his street clothes. “It looks like Erb’s Bakery is heading west! And southish!”

“You’d better not be shitting with me, Candy, you fucker,” Harpy said, lunging from where he’d been pulling on his shirt. Candy relinquished his phone without a quarrel, and after a moment, Harpy whooped. “Saint Louis! It is! Holy fuck!”

Kent took in the mix of chaos and exasperation that spread through the room, and he decided to bite. “What the hell are you dweebs talking about?”

Harpy, Candy, and a good portion of his teammates all looked at him in varying stages of dismay and disbelief. “Cap, have you not heard about Erb’s?” Harpy asked.

Kent let his silence speak for him. 

Candy spoke up quickly. “Parse, it’s like the most legit bakery. All the East Coast teams are talking about it.”

“Well,” Diva interrupted, “not all of them. It hasn’t been down to Miami.”

“True,” Harpy said.

“Anyways,” Candy said pointedly, “it’s a bakery run out of a food truck, and I heard from some of the Islanders that the mini pies are to die for.”

“Yeah,” Harpy said. “But, like, it’s not a chain or anything. It seems like it’s just this guy traveling around the country in his food truck, and no one ever knows where he’s going to end up next. God, I hope he comes to Vegas.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled around. Kent felt his brows furrow slightly, how was he just now hearing of this? 

Sonny, Kent’s A, and a forward nearly to retirement, spoke up. “If no one knows where he’s gonna be, how does he get any business?”

“He’s on the social media, Pops,” Candy said, with the barest hint of sarcasm. “Whenever he sets up shop, he’ll snap it—”

“He’ll tweet it,” Diva said.

“He’ll gram it,” Candy said.

“Hell, he even facebook’s it!” Harpy chimed in.

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it, Cap,” Swoops said from next to Kent and with an elbow in his side. “He’s got an up and coming feline on Instagram.”

“What’s the name,” Kent said, already pulling his phone out. “I need to follow him right now.”

His teammates laughed at him, but once Kent got home from practice, he spent a shameful amount of time digging through @ERBbakery to see all the pictures of the gorgeous black cat, apparently named Plum.

~~~

“Dicky, I know you don’t follow sports much, but your Aunt Judy just told me that your cousin Tris told her that Kent Parson talked to you on the Instagram,” Suzanne said, and Eric resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he wiped down his countertops, Plum weaving her way around his feet. 

“Mama, I’m sure I’d be a lot more excited if I knew who Kent Parson was.”

“He’s a hockey player, sweetie, the captain of the Las Vegas Aces. He’s quite the cutie, if your cousin can be trusted at all.” Eric bit back a snort, as Suzanne’s tone implied how trustworthy she thought Tris was. “Anyhow, you’ve just got to talk back to him on Instagram. He’s quite a bit famous, he could help out your business a bunch.”

This time Eric had to snort. “My business is doin’ just fine, Mama, and without a hockey player’s endorsement.”

“I’m just thinking, Dicky, some extra cash can’t hurt, especially if you decided to stop being a traveling circus for a while, maybe rent out an apartment and stop livin’ in the cab of your truck for a while.”

“I like my truck! It’s fun to travel, see all these cities and people.” 

Suzanne snorts at him. “Mhm, and I’m sure you’ll keep thinking that when you aren’t nineteen.”

“I know it’s not a forever gig, Mama, give me more credit than that. Now, let me put you on speaker phone, and I can take a look at Instagram.”

“You do that, Dicky. And did you see that new cobbler recipe on our Pinterest? I was talking to your Aunt Mel earlier, and she was just going on about some blackberry peach cobbler her neighbor Sally had made for their neighborhood potluck, so I just had to figure out how to make one. The recipe I pinned…” 

Eric would be slightly ashamed to admit that he zoned out a little then, but he had opened the picture he was tagged in that seemed to have exploded his Instagram. 

kitpurrson: @ERBbakery I hear there’s some competition growing for best insta-cat. In unrelated matters, LOOK AT THIS CUTE FLUFFBALL

The picture it was attached to showed an incredibly fluffy calico stretching in a patch of sun on a table. Eric frowned. “Plum’s much cuter than this kitpurrson character,” he said, and during Suzanne’s shocked laughter, he realized he had cut her off. “Sorry, Mama, but you know I’m right.”

“Well, maybe you should tell her owner that. He seems to think she’s the best thing since sliced bread.”

Eric was scrolling through the account, looking at the pictures of the calico, apparently called Purrs, and trying to see his competition. “Mama, are you encouraging me to start a cute cat war with this professional athlete?”

 

“I’m certainly not advocating against it. You’ve got a cute kitty there, and if it weren’t for your father’s allergies, I’d have gotten us our own by now.”

“You hate cats.”

“I know! That’s why it’s impressive that I like yours.”

“Oh, Mama, I found the link to the hockey player’s Instagram. Should I stalk him?” 

Eric was already clicking the link when his mom agreed. “Well, Jiminy Cricket,” Eric breathed. The first picture on the page was a selfie of a lean man wearing sunglasses, his blonde hair a chaos of cowlicks, with his hands propped behind his head. He was also shirtless. Eric felt the blood flood his cheeks.

“What’s that, Dicky?” Suzanne asked, and Eric scrambled for a decent response. 

“That, he certainly is… an NHL star, isn’t he?”

“Ooh, honey, what’re you goin’ to say back at him?”

“I don’t know yet,” Eric said, and he kept looking at more of this Kent Parson’s pictures, maybe paying more attention to the selfies. Whatever. It wasn’t like anyone had to know.

~~~

[a picture of a presumably all black cat covered in flour, the light catching on puffs of flour suspended in the air. The cat’s eyes are looking directly at the camera.]  
ERBbakery: Well, if @kitpurrson thinks there’s any competition for cutest insta cat, he is sorely mistaken

~

[a picture of a long haired calico cat curled up in what looks like a hockey bag, as the cat is surrounded by hockey pads, pucks, and a hockey stick.]  
kitpurrson: Baker cats aren’t the only ones who can tag along to work @ERBbakery @JeffTroy43 do you think the coaches will let her watch?

JeffTroy43: If I see her at practice I will take her home with me  
kitpurrson: :( please don’t  
heaththehockeyhunk: @JeffTroy43 you could almost say you would catnap her  
JeffTroy43: @heaththehockeyhunk you can sleep at the rink tonight  
Heaththehockeyhunk: :( 

~

[a picture of a sleek black cat pawing at her nose as soft snowflakes fall around her.]  
ERBbakery: I think Plum has the same opinion as I do about snow…

prissytrissy93: You HAVE to bring her to Georgia soon! Also, I think Aunt Suzie would love to see you  
heaththehockeyhunk: @ERBbakery you know where it doesn’t snow? Vegas

~

[a picture of a fluffy calico cat, focused on her face, which is pressed on a man’s face right in front of his ear, her fur mingling with his blond hair.]  
kitpurrson: Shame her for mistaking me for her scratch post and getting mad at me while she’s using me as her jungle gym. 

dropdeaddiva87: I would never shame Purrs  
M.S.Harper: ^Diva knows who the real captain is  
ERBbakery: Plum often has those same misconceptions lol

~

[a picture focused on a black cat perched on a chair back, the background is full of warm colors and a Thanksgiving Day feast]  
ERBbakery: Home for the Holidays

moomawmarjorie: Eric! Tris made me an Instagram account so I can see your cat. It’s good to have you home. I’ll be over to your house later today, so you can show me that new custard you were going on about.  
ERBbakery: Thanks @moomawmarjorie I can’t wait to see you :)  
kitpurrson: …

~

[a picture of a calico cat sprawled out next to a plated turkey sandwich and potato chips]  
kitpurrson: Even though my dinner isn’t comparable to @ERBbakery at least Purrs blows his cat out of the water.

ERBbakery: Fight me.  
heaththehockeyhunk: @ERBbakery I will pay you to come to Vegas and fight him  
kitpurrson: @heaththehockeyhunk @ERBbakery I’m a professional athlete. He’s a traveling baker.  
M.S.Harper: @ERBbakery don’t listen, @heaththehockeyhunk just wants you for your pie  
heaththehockeyhunk: @M.S.Harper shhh I almost had him

~

[a picture of a black cat weaving through chair legs on a picturesque patio]  
ERBbakery: Plum and I are loving New Orleans

prissytrissy93: try the beignets  
moomawmarjorie: Oh, New Orleans is just one of my favorite places! Make sure to stop and listen to the music, Eric!

~

[a blurred picture of a calico cat curled up on someone’s chest]  
kitpurrson: the only good thing about coming home with a lose

dropdeaddiva87: We’ll get ‘em next time Cap  
JeffTroy43: The Avs won’t know what hit them  
heaththehockeyhunk: ^^  
M.S.Harper: ^^^

~

[a picture of a black cat sitting on the sill of the order window of a food truck, busy streets and a long line in the background]  
ERBbakery: Can’t say Plum and I are rooting for the home team tonight in Denver, CO

kitpurrson: You know they’re playing the Panthers, right? The Avs will definitely win  
prissytrissy93: You holding a grudge there Eric?  
delarosedawn: OMG I don’t care WHO you’re rooting for, just please don’t run out of pie before I get there!

~

[a picture of a silhouette of a cat backlit by the setting sun]  
kitpurrson: Purrs is embracing her romantic side

dropdeaddiva87: I’m in love with your cat.

~

[a picture of a black cat leaning out a truck window, the pink of sunset taking over the sky]  
ERBbakery: @kitpurrson Plum as well

kitpurrson: <3 

~

[a picture of a calico cat laying on a locker room bench between two men who look ready to skate]  
kitpurrson: we’ve got our good luck charm in the house tonight

heaththehockeyhunk: omg don’t let coach see  
M.S.Harper: You can’t let Purrs be kicked out!!!!  
JeffTroy43: @kitpurrson I guess Purrs is going to have to come to all our home games now :)  
ERBbakery: Good job tonight boys!

~

[a picture of a black cat laying on a truck dash, a city sprawled in the distance beyond]  
ERBbakery: Vegas, here we come :)

JeffTroy43: @heaththehockeyhunk  
heaththehockeyhunk: aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
dropdeaddiva87: thanks @ERBbakery you broke him

~~~

Kent saw ERB Bakery post, at six a.m., that he had officially set up shop for a few days in Las Vegas. Kent ignored the sudden butterflies in his stomach. More accurately: a stampede of elephants in his stomach. Actually, Kent couldn’t really ignore them, but acknowledging them would mean that he would have to also acknowledge his fondness for the man, Eric, who ran the food truck.

To deal with his feelings, he ran, and by 7:22 he had returned to his usual state of successful repression. That is, until he saw Swoops standing outside his house.

“The fuck are you doing here, man?” Kent said, short of breath, as he let himself (and subsequently Swoops) inside.

“Take a shower, and I’ll get Purrs all leashed up.”

“Why,” Kent sighed, but he was already pulling off his shirt and walking towards his bathroom.

Swoops didn’t answer, opting instead to grab the cat treats from under the sink to lure Purrs down from her perch on top of the bookshelf.

Twenty minutes later, Kent met Swoops in his entry way, and Kent may have been dressed up slightly, with his hair slicked into order. He knew what Swoops was doing.

The three of them piled into Swoops car, and within thirty minutes, they were standing in a lot, the only fixture in which being a truck, and a short line of people leading to it. The food truck was painted a nice dark blue, the name of the business painted in swirling light blue, and there was a light- yellow awning suspended over the window. Standing inside the window was a blond man, who smiled at his customers with as much welcoming spirit as Kent had ever experienced before, and the man’s hand that wasn’t scrawling out orders or counting money was absent-mindedly scratching a black cat between her ears.

Kent’s heart beat stuttered as Swoops guided him into line.

In the back of Kent’s awareness, he recognized that Swoops was carrying on a very one- sided conversation, but he also recognized it didn’t matter, as sooner than he thought possible, they had reached the front of the line.

“What can I do for y’all today?” the blond man— Eric— said, half turned to prepare some part of a previous order.

Kent couldn’t breathe, and Swoops elbowing him in the side was not helping. 

Then Eric turned all of his sunshine to face Kent, and he looked down and saw Purrs weaving around Kent’s legs. Eric looked at him again, softer this time, less preformed, more genuine, but he still smiled like the last puzzle piece of his life had fallen into place.

“Kent Parson, I presume?”

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> This was my betty's valentine gift for mouse-the-hat over on tumblr! I hope they, and all other readers, enjoy!
> 
> Sidenote: I think I like my OCs here a little too much


End file.
